


Every Morning.

by Ivyvory



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, Post-Apocalypse, but with semisentient murderplants and overgrown stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22259614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivyvory/pseuds/Ivyvory
Summary: Writing Prompt: Every morning, the state-approved messages blared out from the speakers on the street.





	Every Morning.

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in a post-apocalyptic world where it isn't zombies, but rather plant lifeforms that took over. 
> 
> The plants infect humans with pollen and turn them into 'zombies', tree-people. Think a crossover between parasyte and green worldz maybe? Even if this setting was made before I knew of the latter lmao
> 
> This is based on an AU with a friend of mine, who also gave me this prompt.

Every morning, the state-approved messages blared out from the speakers on the street.

It was always the same bit: everything was safe, that they were not to venture out, and stay away from the gates. This morning at least something more was mentioned: the people in charge managed to gain back another block from the creatures.

It didn't change how tired he was of hearing these announcements, each day, way too soon in the morning for his poor sleep schedule.

A part of him thought they were unnecessary, as the things were attracted to noise. Wouldn't simple radios do the same job, instead of potentially attracting them to the shelter?

But oh no, if he brought that up, he would only gather attention, and he didn't want anything to do with the people in charge. They were brash, dangerous and worst of all, power-hungry.

It wasn't enough for them to work them all to the bone to maintain some kind of society, no sire.

They could all die for what he cared. His headaches were getting worse, and ibuprofen was getting too scarce to spend it on a mere headache. This place was doomed. He had to leave as soon he could.

Not during the day, when guards kept watch of both what tried to get in and who tried to get out.

Not at night, when it was too dark to see.

Maybe with a full moon, it would be doable, but then he'd have to bet on a clear sky for more than two nights, not to mention having proper sustenance.

Food was severely watched over and rationed to everyone, so he couldn't just steal what he needed before leaving.

He didn't trust himself to completely scavenge food in the overgrown forest for himself; maybe he could at least read up on edible plants somewhere. That would help. But maybe for now it would be better to save some of his rations to prepare for the trek.

He didn't really know where to go, either. Anywhere was better than this place. Going north would make it hard for winter. South, they thrived more. East or west was irrelevant.

As he finally got out of bed after what seemed hours - who knows, maybe he really did spend hours awake in it - he kept thinking on it. The details, the plans, who he had to be aware of to make it.

He had only very little chance of making it successfully; he wasn't a survivalist. But at this point...

His thoughts got interrupted by a few shouts down the street. One scouting party had returned, it seemed. Good for them, although it seems they lost one or two guys. Typical.

After getting dressed, and drinking some water in hopes it would make his headache more bearable, he did the daily chores that were expected of him. Tend to the plants kept inside, do some laundry (how he missed the laundry machines, it was so much easier when they had them working, ugh.), and keep the spot he slept at in good shape overall.

It wasn't much, but it kept him occupied for most of the day, again.

"C'mon, you're still not done with these yet? It's almost lunch time."

"...Yeah, sorry, be right there. Lost track of time."

He made his answers as brief he could; he wasn't feeling like thinking too much. Water would help his headache? Yeah, right, as if.

That thought turned out to be the most untrue thing he experimented today. In fact, it was only getting worse. He needed a break from work.

Dragging his feet to the common area, he somehow managed to eat the whole thing, as frugal it was; not that he could appreciate the taste of bland oatmeal and protein bars anyway. It just made him thirstier. Damn did he long for some proper fruit. A feeling of light-headiness came across him after he stood up, having to lean against the table lest he fell over. He was aware of some vague concerns directed at him, being told to go to the doc's room. In a haze, he nodded, although he had no intention of doing so. He'd just be told that it was a stupid, simple headache, and that there was nothing they could do against it.

As usual.

But fuck it, his skull felt like it was being torn open. To bed it was, hopefully to sleep it off. Any plans he'd have would need to take that in account. He could barely focus on his own self as it was; forget foraging in the wild by himself for days.

\-------

He woke up in sweat multiple times that night. Probably because of the pain and a persistent itchiness of his back. What time was it? It was still dark. Dawn? Whatever. He tried to roll in bed, to change his position, only to find himself resting against something hard. Ugh, what again.

Trying to throw it off didn't seem to work. What a pain. Fine, he'd just sleep like that.

\------

A high-pitched scream was what woke him up next. Goddamn it, could they not wake him just as he finally was getting some goddamn sleep? Curling up tighter in bed, he tried to put his hands over his ears; but something felt wrong. He couldn't feel them at all, but he could feel something hard.

Ow. what was that? Something pinched him hard in the back. Stupid bugs. Stupid people. Fine. He'd get up, just leave him alone, okay?

"Be careful, it's moving!" "Go fetch the guards!"

What was going on again? Another attack? Just his luck. Very funny. He let out a monotone laugh. Something itched again, in his shoulder this time. Come on, he was getting up, ok!

...Wait, something was wrong with his feet. ... Scratch that, his sight was being weird. Everything was tinted in.... red? Pink? something in-between. Rubbing his eyes didn't make it go away. "Ugh...."

....His voice too? Maybe it was just him being too tired still. Clearing his throat felt wrong. He couldn't feel his arms or legs despite knowing he moved them, too. .....Looking at them didn't explain shit either. What was this, a tree? Why was he getting the front view of a damn tree ? His gaze settled in front of him, to one of the other dudes in the shelter. Whoa, wait, was he holding a gun against him? He tried to speak, but only a garbled mess came out. Something he would remember hearing, yes. Not from his own person, though, nope. It was the language that those monsters spoke. those treemen. He had a vague impression of getting.. shot? the sound the gun made felt dampened, like he was hearing everything though cotton. He stood up. His movements weren't his own, he realized as he stepped towards the gunman.

His voice wasn't his own either, what was going on? He was too tired for this. Oh. The dude tried to flee. It was probably a sound judgement if you had one of those zombies on your tail, but running away usually fails when they're already so close to you. Come on, that's the very basics of survival.

Ahh, there we were, he's dead now. Honestly, this was all feeling like a dream. He couldn't really feel himself getting emotionally involved in this, like he was just watching a bad horror movie. You know, the ones where you should expect everyone except maybe the dashing protagonist and his family to live through via some writing bullshit-slash-miracle?

Although the feeling of heat dissipated that cotton feeling. He couldn't smell, but smoke was visible raising from him. Ah, others were there. That explained why.

It didn't take much time for him/the creature to be taken down. Or at least, he could feel it as he woke up, for good this time. What a stupid fuckin' dream.

The state-approved messages blared out from the speakers on the street.

Routine, as usual. He shifted in bed, grunting as he did so.

A sharp pain in his back made him wince. His muscles protested. He rested against something hard, seems like. The hell....

A branch? did he drag part of the garden with him last night? He had been tired, after all, heck he didn't even undress.

That plant wasn't too familiar with him, though. It was hard wood, with lilac-like flowers, their magenta color contrasting the white of their center. It still smelled fragrant, as if freshly bloomed.

....it wasn't a bad smell, but it looked odd.

Bah, whatever, he'd just drag it out later after a shower and breakfast. His dream quickly becoming forgotten.

The headache had subdued a little, but it was still there. Or was it that he was growing used to the pain? Regardless, he felt somewhat happy for it, as tired he was.

He didn't want to go to the fields today, his eyes felt too damn sensitive. Just looking outside made it feel as if his headache got exponentially worse. At least the water helped his back to be less itchy. Probably mosquito bites.

"Ugh.. "

Even his feet felt heavy since after he showered. All he wanted to do today was sleep, the leaders be damned. He could be allowed one day off, yes?

He just laid down in bed for who knew how long. At least it smelled clean. That was more than some people within these walls could speak of.

It was a fragrance that he couldn't quite place in his hazy mind. The source came from all around him, sweet and inducing.

A shame nice smells were left behind in favor of ammunition these days, he would have loved to create a fragrance out of it.

He found himself waking up sometime later - when had he fallen asleep? Faintly registering that something around him changed, he looked around.

The whole room was covered in greenery. The walls, furniture, and even the bed. Was he dreaming again?

It felt like part of the bed came with him as he stood up, feeling considerably heavier than before.

Looking down at his hands, he understood the problem.

They were their hands.

Not human, not animal.

Plant life, given shape to vaguely mimic something like a human.

One blink, and everything disappeared. Only to slowly fade back in. Which was real? Which wasn't? Was he finally losing it?

He idly realized that he didn't eat yet. Still, he didn't feel hungry.

Walking outside instead, an apprehensive feeling in his gut.

He could hear nothing, which was why he hadn't noticed.

Somehow, they had made it in.

He could see mouths opening, as if to scream, only to be silenced by cold, hard wood. Yet, he could hear none of it.

Many creatures moved about, looking very well intent on chasing every human down in this place.

Ah.

So that was it.

This place truly was fucked. For real this time.

There was nothing he could do against it.

Looking some distance at his left, he saw one of those that had self-appointed themselves as the leaders.

Or rather, what was left of him: a husk, looking like it had been a straw doll for a seedbed.

Plants already mature growing from where skin had been pierced, or from natural orifices. It looked grotesque, and bloody. A large pool of blood lay under the corpse, and it was far from the only one to have met that fate.

Some others seemed luckier; in the middle of turning, still alive, but walking with limps as their hands and feet grew too heavy for them to carry.

Should he get out of here? It would probably be a good idea. He didn't want to finish like them.

As he moved, he noted how despite being free of his movements, something felt like it was moving along with him. Like he was wearing a sort of sentient suit that could move.

Well, as long he lived in the end, it would be fine. There were worse things to worry about immediately. He passed the gates with only one of them moving in his way; well, more shambling than walking. She seemed out of it, foam at her mouth, one human eye looking around wildly, as if she was just taken for a ride she had no choice to take a part of. The thing walked not on human feet, its legs merged with bark; the plant probably had the upper hand, but didn't yet assert full control.

Both it and its human host were easily dealt with.

By which, meaning that whatever he was now had stabbed the fleshy parts of the human until it couldn't move anymore.

She had been a bitch from day one to him, so good riddance. He was sure others also resented her.

Leaving pandemonium behind, he walked into the forest without a thought, a few flowering vines trailing behind him. Every morning, the approved messaged had blared through the speakers on the streets. Now, it only shared human fear and pain across the shelter until everything would fall silent.

For good.


End file.
